Temptation
by NorthernTrash-x
Summary: Tamaki/Kyouya. When watching becomes to much to bear, the only thing left to do is roll off the recliner.


Christmas one-shot #4

Kyouya x Tamaki

Frank Sinatra. No offense by the 'queer' line. I think it's sad that I have to put that down- in Sinatra's day, it meant 'strange'

**Temptation**

_Isn't it rich? Aren't we a pair?  
Me here at last on the ground, and you in mid-air  
Send in the clowns  
_

Sometimes, something hits you with such surprising speed that for a moment you don't even understand that it did, like how an insect must feel as they hit the glass of a speeding car. For a moment, everything is fine, then you realise just how much it isn't with a hard, fast impact. That's kind of what happened here, although it took me much longer than a moment to realise. But many would tell me that my inability to grasp things is nothing new, that it is, in fact, a characteristic of mine that, it seems, I am unable to loose. An idiosyncrasy, as it were.

I'd probably have to agree with you there.

We're idiots, you and I. Clearly not academically, defiantly not in your case anyway, but sometimes I get up and look in a mirror and think: "Tamaki, you are a fool". Other days, I look at you and think: "Kyouya, you are even more of one". I guess some things are like that, though.

You always tell me off for having my head in the clouds. You tell me that my brain is soaring far away from everything I should be paying attention to and that as pretty as the sky is, I should come back down, and stop ignoring what's going on. Well, I hate to break it to you, Mother, but I've been brought crashing down to the ground. It's you that's oblivious now.

Role reversals are a bitch.

Don't look at me like that.

"Tamaki, you're daydreaming again. You're supposed to be doing that work before the club starts."

See? He can read my mind, I swear.

I'd quite like to be able to fly again.

_Isn't it bliss? Don't you approve?  
One who keeps tearing around, and one who can't move  
But where are the clowns? _

You always considered me a fool, from the day we met. An irritating, useless idiot, I'm sure. I don't blame you, if I am going to be honest about it- I do too many things without thinking them through or considering the consequences. Spending so much time with you was the most foolish of all, though. And I've done a lot of stupid, regrettable things. Trust me, I have.

I've caused you so much trouble, haven't I?

But I'm not the only one with faults.

When are you going to start living properly? Finances and management are one thing, and I'm sure that they are important and necessary, at least for you, but when are you seriously going to take an interest in being young? For once, I think you should remember how old you are. Stop trying to be your father- I'm sure even he had more fun than you do.

People tell me to grow up. I'm telling you to stop it.

That's right, telling you. It's an order.

Then again, maybe I will just never understand your determination.

"Tamaki, you look like a fool. What are you thinking about?"

If I were a lesser person, I would blush. Nope, wait… I am blushing. Damn it.

"Ah, nothing. Sorry."

He raises an eyebrow and turns back to his laptop.

_Send in the clowns_

I was a fool to ever start thinking about this. Host Club starts soon, and I doubt the mood I am in will be fully covered up by my enthusiasm. Oh, I am enthusiastic, effortlessly so, and I am energetic, I just don't have the boundless energy that I'd like other people to think I do.

You push your glasses up your nose with one slim finger and bite your lip. God, do you know how that tortures me?

Fuck, I'd like to bite you.

Why do you torment me so, lord?

Am I ever going to understand the world, or will it just continue to mock me mercilessly? Or is it that it isn't even doing that, it's just living out its plans, regardless of what I feel?

That's much more conceivable, isn't it?

Fucking hell. I need to stop being so deep.

Ha. The world, as much as I would like to think that it does, does not revolve around me. The teenage hormones are clearly screwing with my mind again.

Oh dear.

_Just when I stopped opening doors  
Finally finding the one that I wanted was yours_

Heh. This is getting me down too much. Maybe I'll go find someone, and cheer myself up. I always have bounced back. A pretty girl maybe, to give myself an ego boost. At least some people are attracted to me. Pity its not you. Hell, pity they are all of the female persuasion full stop.

It really did take me too long to figure _that_ out, didn't it? How many straight guys like flowers that much?

They are so pretty though.

And they smell so nice.

Like you, huh?

I just couldn't place it- everything was different with you. I just kept searching, and searching, for some small fact that would help me understand. The x in the problematic equation, the missing word in a nearly formed sentence. It was like I had accidentally turned off a light, and a tiny part of my mind was shadowed, so small I could ignore it, but constantly there.

Just like you.

_Making my entrance again with my usual flair  
Sure of my lines - nobody there  
_

And so it goes. The eldest two members of the club have filed in now, one after the other, as always, and I smile up at them from my position on one of the recliners. I stand to greet both of them, dramatically, with perfect timing.

A rose for Haruhi, as she enters. A knock across the back of the head for the twins, as they follow soon after.

Heh.

And you? You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose as you watch them, getting to your feet, a clipboard under one arm. You are calm and cool and collected.

I smile at you as I move to my section of the room.

Just as usual.

Little do you know that I'd love to push you down on the recliner and have my wicked way with you, like I've seen it done on the commoner films that Haruhi lets me borrow sometimes. Now wouldn't that be something to tape and sell on? The ravishes of the handsome prince. Don't worry though, I'd make sure you were thinking of things much more… interesting than the sales that would arise from it all.

I'm sure the twins would find me doing that hilarious. The rest would probably find it sweet, or slightly disturbing.

I won't do it, anyway, because you've hit me before when angry, and I'm not sure I'd like to repeat that.

Stop smirking at me like that! So what if I was glazed?

_Don't you love a farce? My fault, I fear  
I thought that you'd want what I want – sorry, my dear  
_

You are looking at me like I have lost my mind. That might be because Host Club is over now and instead of breezing out at the end with the others, like I always do, throwing my gratitude and farewell over my shoulder, I've sat down opposite you whilst you finish off the book-keeping.

Oh, that and the fact that I've been staring at you gormlessly for the last few minutes.

Oh well. I never did master the fine art of subtlety.

You snap down the lid of your laptop. Something is wrong.

"Tamaki. We need to talk."

_But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns…  
Don't bother, they're here_

I swallow.

"What about?"

My voice is dry, and there is no emotion, no over-dramatic gesture, no Tamaki-style foolery of any kind.

Foolery?

Hah. I am a fool, I should be allowed to act so, damn it!

You stare at me levelly over your glasses, eyes not leaving my own. Your cheekbones are defined, almost feminine, your hair dark and looks polished. I've often wondered if it would be soft to touch. Your neck is long and your skin is pale, so pale that if you look hard enough you can see the veins in your neck.

You move seats, sitting next to me now. You lean in close, and I can feel your breath against my ear.

"About the accounting."

I shiver involuntarily, and you inch closer, our legs pressing together.

"Oh?"

"It seems we are making a higher…" you pause, and the next word you say is warmer, stronger. "profit… than before."

"Really?"

I struggle to stay calm.

I can feel your nose ghosting across my hair._  
_

I crack, and turn. You cock your head to one side questioningly, and I can see the faint blue lines on your neck. I feel vaguely vampiric as I watch them, entranced. I loose all of what little composure I had left, and kiss them. Your head moves to one side, exposing more taught skin, and I kiss my way up to your jawbone, where I stop, and pull back, not sure what reaction to expect.

You're smirking. I'm blushing.

You notice, and if anything you smirk more.

Damn it.

"You're not going to finish?"

I stare at you, silent for a moment, before lunging forward and kissing your mouth almost angrily, quickly, before pulling back.

"You wanted me to do that."

"Of course."

_Isn't it rich? Isn't it queer?  
Losing my timing this late in my career  
_

We stare each other in the eye for a moment longer, before, to my surprise, you make the first move forward, grabbing the lapels of my blazer and pulling me down on top of you. We roll off the recliner, which is narrow and more for ornamentation than anything else, onto the floor.

We sit up, jolted by the movement, my shoulder hurting because of the jar when I hit the floor. We kneel, knee to knee, one of my hands on your thigh. You cock your head to the side again, this time more an invitation than a temptation.

I kiss your neck again, more slowly this time, following a vein down to your collar bone, then up to your jaw. Experimentally I bite down, not hard enough to break the skin, and you moan quietly, your hands clenched into fists by your side.

I sit back, and pull your glasses off. You look a little unsure without them, although I'm sure you are not.

You're never unsure about anything.

I kiss the bridge of your nose, where there are little red marks from the glasses, and your eyes close, almost involuntarily.

Your arms circle my waist suddenly, and we fall back against the floor in a jumble, legs tangled, mouths together. Your arms slip under the back of my shirt, stroking the small of my back.

It's a rough kiss, almost a little angry at the wait and the vent up passion, but it tastes sweet, and my hands reach up to stroke your hair.

It's as soft as it looks.

_But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns  
well, maybe next year_


End file.
